


A Good Day For Pie

by TheNonBinaryBard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNonBinaryBard/pseuds/TheNonBinaryBard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember when Misha Collins directed an episode and J2 pied him in the face? Well, a Tumblr user I follow said this:<br/>-------------------------------------------------------------<br/>mishadmitrikrushniccollins:</p><p>No but I needs me some fluffy fic about Dean pie-ing Cas and Cas just not getting it and Dean thinking it’s the fucking funniest thing in the world and having to explain it to Cas but it’s ok because Dean volunteers to clean it up.<br/>With his mouth.<br/>Bonus points if a bunch got on Cas’s neck too and cleaning it off results in a neck full of hickeys xD<br/>-------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>And then I accidentally a fanfic. Hope you enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Day For Pie

It seemed like a good day for pie.

Sammy hadn't found any cases to work on and had gone out to get more of his rabbit food, Kevin was locked in his room pouring over the angel tablet obsessively, as per the norm, and Dean was taking the opportunity to indulge in his new home's kitchen. Dude, let's be honest: the bunker was awesome. Dean had his own room, a fantastic shower with excellent water pressure, and a sizeable kitchen with good steel appliances and nice, sharp knives. These stuffy men of letters really knew how to live!

Dean had his classic rock blasting out of the speakers of his laptop as he worked in the kitchen, prepping the crusts and chopping apples. He had snagged several pie tins and a buttload of whipped cream last time they did a supply run -- if no one was going to ever bring him pie, he was gonna make damn sure he had enough in his fridge to survive another Apocalypse. He pressed dough into the pie pans, heated the apples into a gooey syrup, and cracked open yet another beer.

Twisting the knob to both of the two large ovens to begin preheating them, he turned the motion into a swipe at the air and began air guitaring a particularly spectacular solo, oblivious to Cas peering in the doorway. Nodding his head along in time as the drums and bass picked back up, he began filling each of the pies with the apple goo, frowning only briefly as he realized he hadn't made enough for all eight pans. Shrugging, he cut strips of the left over crust to make the tops.

Dean indulging himself in simple pleasures had always fascinated Cas. The tiniest hint of a smile crept onto his typically stoic face and he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the hunter bounce up and down like an impatient toddler as he worked.

The kitchen had warmed considerably and a blast of hot air escaped the oven as Dean pulled it open and began carefully loading the seven pies he'd assembled into the ovens -- thank god for kitchens designed to feed lots of people. Well, maybe not god, 'cause fuck that guy, but Dean was still grateful all the same. He'd never really had the patience to make a bunch of pie, despite wanting it pretty much always.

The ovens closed with a clang and, satisfied with his work, Dean turned to find himself face-to-face with Castiel, who had crept ever closer.

"Goddamnit Cas!" he swore over the music. "Personal space!"

Castiel's face fell and he backed up a few steps, saying, "Sorry Dean," but not loud enough for the man to hear him over the raging guitars.

"What?" Dean shouted, his brow furrowing.

"Sorry!" Cas shouted back, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up his neck as he took another step back.

Dean instantly felt sorry, looking over the flustered former angel. He reached over and muted his laptop as Castiel turned to leave. "Hey, wait!" he said. Cas paused, canting his head just slightly as Dean flipped around to face the counter, completely missing the mischievous smirk on the hunter's face. The tshhhhh! sound of a compressed substance being expelled from a can briefly filled the room and just when Castiel stepped forward, Dean turned around again and smacked the man in the face with a pie tin full of whipped cream.

With a clatter, it fell to the ground. The stern-faced warrior of the Lord was covered chin to eyebrow with whipped cream. Dean snerked, trying to suppress laughter, but Castiel scrunched up his face and a clump fell from his nose and Dean just lost it. His laughter quickly moved from snickers to full-bellied guffaws. It wasn't until he was wheezing with attempts to breathe that Castiel spoke.

"I do not understand," he deadpanned.

Dean coughed a few times and straightened up. "What's not to get?"

"Did I offend you in some way?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "No, Cas; a pie in the face. It's classic!"

Cas simply furrowed his brow, causing another clump of whipped cream to fall from his face, plopping onto his coat.

"It's funny, Cas," Dean sighed, grabbing up a hand towel. "Here, I'll clean you up."

"Dean, you do not need --" but the hunter was already brushing whipped cream from Castiel's trench coat, standing much closer than was necessary. As he worked his way up to Castiel's neck, a blush crept onto his cheeks and Cas muttered, "Really, Dean, it's..."

Dean looked up then, swallowing hard as he met the man's blue eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, close enough to feel one another's breath.

"It's what?" Dean demanded quietly.

"It's okay," Cas breathed, but as it left his mouth he realized he wasn't talking about the pie, his words carrying the intonation of a much more serious admission of forgiveness.

Dean paused, resting the hand holding the towel at the hollow of Cas' throat. He let the towel drop and moved his hand to the back of Cas' neck, pulling him roughly forward and meeting Cas' mouth with his. The man was stunned for a moment, but as Dean opened his mouth and became insistent in his kiss, Castiel felt himself melt, kissing back a little awkwardly at first, but quickly matching Dean for passion.

Their kisses were filled with all of the tension that had built between them over the years, all of the pain washing away to reveal this pristine, carnal moment. Theirs was a fierce hunger that eventually left them breathless, forcing them to pull apart just enough to inhale. Dean kept his hand on the back of Cas' neck, resting their foreheads on one another's, which drew a chuckle from Dean.

Cas looked at him curiously, his eyes narrowing, but without the guarded reservation from minutes before. "What?" he asked a little defensively.

With a smirk, Dean pulled back a bit and licked the whipped cream off of Castiel's nose. Cas smiled then, a bright smile as the humor of the situation dawned on him finally. "I get it!" he exclaimed and Dean laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," Dean murmured, licking along Castiel's jawline and then across his cheek.

"No, I do!" he insisted, eliciting more chuckles from Dean as the hunter licked up to his eyebrow and then back down. However, instead of working his way back up, he moved beyond Castiel's jawline, lapping up the whipped cream and then nipping at the flesh beneath.

"Mhm," grunted Dean, hands travelling down Cas' chest and brushing off the man's coat with a forwardness that caused a fluttery feeling in Castiel's chest. Dean's hands wandered as Cas, unsure but enjoying himself, wrapped his arms around Dean in turn. Dean pressed forward suddenly, moving them from the middle of the kitchen until he had shoved the former angel against the side of the fridge, nipping, lapping, kissing at Castiel's neck.

Castiel's breathing sped up to keep time with the fluttering in his chest and he closed his eyes with a soft grunt, balling up Dean's shirt in his hands as the man bit down and then kissed and kissed, kissing across Castiel's throat to lick up the whipped cream and repeat the whole process on the other side of his neck.

Dean worked his way back up to Castiel's jaw. He caught his mouth again and Castiel could taste the sweetness of the whipped cream and the salt of his skin and the beer on Dean's breath as they kissed.

A loud thump on the counter across the kitchen startled the men apart. Dean quickly stepped away, turning around to glare at Sam, who simply raised his eyebrows, and several bags of groceries. Both Dean and Cas coughed, moving another few steps apart. Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, stepping towards the oven and Cas muttered something about a shower, quickly disappearing from the room.

Sam smirked.

"Don't say a word," Dean snapped, turning the heat on the oven off and trying -- futilely -- to brush whipped cream from his plaid shirt.

"I wasn't going to," Sam said. Dean glared again, pursed his lips like he was going to say something, and then just shook his head and left the kitchen.

Grinning like a fool as he began putting his groceries away in the fridge, Sam chuckled to himself. "Called it."


End file.
